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( votes)Not My Land
written by: hedgehog
Autumn's chill hangs in the air
Mighty oaks are shedding
Two cygnets gliding
On dark blue water
Red berries still not eaten
Omens of winter's breath?
I walk cracking the silence
Beneath the tree the bones of life
Leaves digested by the earth
Feeding the ground for spring's arrival
Daylight's moon pale and wan
Sheds eerie light upon the ground
Oaks last leaves hang like metal shards
My warm blood chills
Sun's rays exiled behind the clouds
I feel a stranger here
As yet this is not my land
hedgehog
I'm a retired Civil Servant, I worked for the Ministry of Defence retiring at the age of fifty. I am now seventy years of age and was encouraged by my good friend Annie Mulholland in February 2016 to write short stories and poetry as she thought I was well capable of writing both. I started writing in earnest in June of 2016. I have joined a writing group "Tenovus write with us".
Latest posts by hedgehog (see all)
- Spring - April 28, 2020
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